


The Big Game

by wowbright



Series: Fidelity Series [4]
Category: Glee
Genre: Fluff and Smut, Frottage, M/M, Originally Posted on LiveJournal, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, embarrassing purple prose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-23
Updated: 2012-03-23
Packaged: 2018-04-29 20:46:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5141927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wowbright/pseuds/wowbright
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt and Blaine frot in the Scandals parking lot a few weeks after they lose their virginity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Big Game

**Author's Note:**

> Background: This is a deleted scene from Fidelity, a fic I've been working on. All you need to know is that Kurt and Blaine have just arrived at Scandals to watch the annual Big Game between the Ohio State Buckeyes and the Michigan Wolverines, who are arch rivals. Otherwise, it's basically vague PWP.

"You know, there's a real down side to this plan," Kurt says as they turn into the Scandals parking lot.

"Do tell."  
  
Kurt pulls into an empty space and kills the motor. "Well, if we were at my house, when Finn and Dad and Carole were all worked up and yelling at the TV, we could sneak off and make some noise of our own."  
  
"Intriguing." Blaine leans forward as he unfastens his seatbelt. "But you forget that I would have been all worked up and yelling at the TV, too."  
  
"Perhaps. But then I would have dragged my fingers ever-so-lightly right there," Kurt sneaks his index and middle fingers just under the waist of Blaine's jeans, tracing a little circle at the base of his spine, "and I think that would have served as a sufficient reminder of the more important things in life."  
  
"Fuck, Kurt," Blaine gasps. "Don't do this to me." But he arches into Kurt's fingers all the same.  
  
Kurt leans into Blaine's ear. "I may have changed my policy on intimate relations in the Scandals parking lot."  
  
"Fuck, Kurt. It's not night out. It's the morning."  
  
"You're right. It's too early for a nooner. We'll have to call it 'elevenses.'"  
  
Blaine rolls his eyes, an odd mix of exasperation and arousal.  
  
"We don't have to do anything," Kurt whispers, his lips skimming the fine hairs between Blaine's sideburn and ear. "But the back windows are tinted."  
  
"Fuck me," Blaine mutters, halfway between a curse and a command, and before Kurt knows what's happened, Blaine has him pressed up against the door and is ravishing Kurt's mouth with his tongue.  
  
It's fucking awesome – lust and electricity and want and desperate hunger – and a few months ago Kurt might have thought that such feelings were depersonalizing at best and depraved at worst. But now he understands that they're just part of a language that he'd heard but didn't yet understand. They're like words that can be combined in endless ways, for good or evil, but he tries to use them for good. He strings them together to tell Blaine what he never quite could before – how much he needs Blaine in his life, how much he wants him, how Blaine has become as much a part of him as his skin and lungs and heart, how he wants to be that to Blaine, too.  
  
The thoughts spin Kurt even further into desperation and he has to push Blaine away – and it's almost like someone ripped his heart out – just long enough to gasp, "Backseat. Now."  
  
Blaine nods in understanding, but he's back in Kurt's mouth and he's not stopping and _fuck_ Kurt should really have thought this through and removed the backseats before they left. He just hadn't planned on needing Blaine _this way_ already in the morning – he just didn't know. They haven't seen each other in the morning except maybe once since this – learning this new language – started, unless you count school, and Kurt realizes now he absolutely shouldn't count school, not for its predictive value, because he's so used to turning this part of himself off at school, at putting on his virtual sunglasses so that Blaine's brilliance is not so completely blinding.  
  
He grabs Blaine's lapels and pushes against him with his whole body and _wow_ that feels amazing _and_ it's so efficacious because Blaine is shifting, shifting back between the front seats and now he's squatted on the floor behind them and Kurt can just keep pushing, laying Blaine down in that narrow space between the front seats and the second row. He has to separate from Blaine then, he knows it won't be long but it still makes his heart rebel, scream with longing and fury at the unfairness of the separation as Kurt shifts the front seats as far forward and the second row as far back as they will go.  
  
And then sweet relief as he presses down on top of Blaine, their mouths locked once again and their bodies undulating in that tight space and it's awkward and uncomfortable but it's so, so good.  
  
Blaine is practically singing into Kurt's mouth – maybe he's _actually_ singing – no matter, whatever he's doing, the buzz of it goes right down to Kurt's heart that drums out life and the navel that means he came from life and his balls that may someday create life – no, no, _this_ is creating life now, this act, this is what keeps the world spinning on its axis. Every time he and Blaine do this, a caterpillar turns into a butterfly and a flower blooms and seeds and another gay penguin couple finds an orphaned hatchling to raise and someone lives a little longer.  
  
"Kurt. Oh, Kurt." It took 40 minutes for Kurt to get everything ironed and on this morning, but it takes half a minute to get them wrinkled and half-off. His cardigan and shirt are rucked up to his nipples, his jeans unbuttoned, his briefs tugged down beneath his balls.  
  
Blaine is just as short order, chest exposed to just beneath his clavicles, his hips and cock pure, naked heat beneath Kurt's skin.  
  
Their hearts rise and beat together. Touching, connected, the pure thrum of exultation.  
  
"Oh, Blaine, I love you." Kurt detaches himself from Blaine's mouth long enough to watch the feelings play over his face, ripples of anguish and ecstasy and longing and sweet, sweet awe, and Kurt doesn't even realize he's crying until he sees the tears drop on Blaine's forehead and ear and neck as Blaine's head rocks, side to side, the slow, inevitable loss of control. "I love making you feel it. Do you feel it? Please, Blaine, I love you."  
  
"Oh, God, Kurt. I do."  
  
It's everything that Kurt has ever wanted, even before he knew that's what he wanted, and it fills him, presses outward on his muscles and skin like a river flooding its banks, and he's there, feeling Blaine everywhere – not just in cock against cock and teeth lips tongue clamping down on fingers – but at the backs of his eyes and in his hair follicles and in his sternum and lungs and the ligaments deep inside his knees.  
  
Blaine bites down hard on Kurt's fingers – his warm, wet selfness sanctifying Kurt's stomach – and his face is the culmination, the completion of each thing that has ever been flawless and beautiful.  
  
Kurt arches and shudders and spills, overflowing, the tangible gift of his heart.  
  
_"Blaine."_ It's a shout and a whisper and a laugh and a sob and something like a prayer – the only kind of prayer that Kurt will ever need.  
  
Their muscles slowly still. Their breathing slowly stills. They slowly still, until their skin grows slowly aware of the press of the seats and carpet and the ineluctable slide of sweat and come.  
  
"Oh my god," says Blaine, stroking Kurt's hair. Kurt is collapsed on top of him, face pressed against Blaine's neck. "I can't believe we just did that. That was – That was – "  
  
Kurt waits.  
  
"I love you, Kurt. And that was the best idea ever." Blaine kisses Kurt's cheek. "I didn't get anything on your clothes, did I?"  
  
Kurt looks down at himself. He'd thought of that as they started, tried to pull everything out of the way as much as possible, but had kind of lost track in the middle, because Blaine, apparently, can make Kurt forget about his wardrobe. "I think my clothes are fine.  But I'll have to be careful getting up."  
  
"Don’t get up. Just stay here and sleep with me."  
  
"I think it's illegal to sleep in cars."  
  
"But having sex in them is okay?"  
  
"We probably shouldn't make a habit of it. But I really needed you right then, Blaine. I just – sometimes I just need to show you." He kisses Blaine's cheek. "But from now on, we'll just have to fuck before we go anywhere. It would be kind of bad for us and our parents if we got caught."  
  
"Tinted windows."  
  
Kurt puts his hand on a spot of floor next to Blaine's waist and starts to push himself up. "'The woods are lovely, dark and deep. But we have promises to keep, and miles to go before we sleep.'"  
  
He pulls out a container of wet wipes from the storage compartment between the front seats and wipes off his own stomach before moving onto Blaine's. He's never done this before – cleaned Blaine – and he's surprised at how sweet and intimate it feels, how perfect a completion to what they've just done. Blaine's eyes are on him, reverential, and he wonders if that's what Blaine's feeling, too.  
  
As if he's heard Kurt's question, Blaine starts singing softly, running his finger along Kurt's upper arm.

_Something in the way he moves_  
_Attracts me like no other lover._  
_Something in the way he woos me._  
_I don't want to leave him now._  
_I know I believe and how._

Kurt remembers Blaine singing to him on the steps last spring, opening his heart for the whole school to see, how everyone fell away until it was just them, just for a few moments, and because Kurt was afraid to say, "I love you," he said, "I'll never say goodbye to you," instead. He's glad he can say both now, so he does. And he thinks, by the look in Blaine's eyes, that Blaine knows they're both true.  
  
They wiggle their clothes back into place and pat them as smooth as they can while seated in the back of an SUV. Blaine fingers Kurt's hair back into something resembling his normal hairdo, and Kurt tries to do the same with Blaine's, but it's impossible to get it back to the shoe-shine perfection it was in before. So Kurt teases out some of the curls with his fingers and it works – not Blaine's usual look, but Kurt likes it, the slight looseness and lack of control.  
  
"Well, one would hardly know I just ravished you in the backseat," Kurt says. "Ready to go beat Michigan?"  
  
Blaine smiles. "I'm ready."

**Author's Note:**

> It's [](http://lavender-love00.livejournal.com/profile)[ **lavender_love00**](http://lavender-love00.livejournal.com/)'s birthday. She deserves birthday porn. And since I was too tired to write said porn, I scrounged up a deleted scene from a fic I'm working on right now. Why is it deleted? Well, my beta convinced me that, yeah, Kurt and Blaine probably wouldn't frot in the Scandals parking lot in BROAD DAYLIGHT two to three weeks after they lost their virginity. Also, because the prose is kind of extravagant. But I hope [](http://lavender-love00.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://lavender-love00.livejournal.com/)**lavender_love00** enjoys extravagant in her PWP.


End file.
